


Hard to Tell if This Heart Still Beats

by spilladrop4orpheus



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, F/M, Hades Has Issues, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22138255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spilladrop4orpheus/pseuds/spilladrop4orpheus
Summary: A night of heavy drinking for Persephone has Hades confronting feelings he had been trying to push away.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Hadestown)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 77





	Hard to Tell if This Heart Still Beats

It was the unmistakable sound of a needle skipping on a record that interrupted his concentration. Hades had stayed up late to finish up some work, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to sleep over the loud music his wife insisted on playing well into the night. He had been able to tune out the music, but the repetitive sound signaling the end of the recording began to grate on his nerves. With each rotation of the record, he could feel his patience wearing thinner and thinner.

“Would you change the damn record already?” His voice bellowed down the hall, but there was no response. Just that sound…. _skip,…skip…skip._

 _Damn woman!_ He had no doubt that Persephone left it like that just to annoy him. If there was one thing he and his wife both excelled at lately, it was finding the minor inconveniences that set the other off. These days, they either ignored each other entirely or they were at each other’s throats. There wasn’t much in between. He preferred the ignoring mostly. She liked to start fights when she was bored...or drunk. Usually both.

Well tonight, if it was an argument she wanted, he’d damn well give her one. He pushed his work aside and started towards their sitting room, growing more agitated with each step. The stomping of his boots echoing down the hallway served as a warning that he was coming and that he was not amused. Hades could just picture Persephone standing next to the record player, armed with a drink and that smug smile of hers, just waiting for him to show up. Sure, the argument would start with the record player, but by the end of it, they would be bringing up other grievances, both current and long-dead to throw at one another.

“Damnit, Persephone! Would you—” He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed her slumped over almost sideways in an armchair, one leg thrown over the armrest. Her flask, a constant fixture in her hand these days, dangled from her loose grip. He hoped it was empty, and knowing her it was, as anything left in it was dangerously close to being spilled on the rug. The empty wine bottles littering the floor were a clear indication of the little party she just had for herself. He wondered why she hadn’t drunk herself stupid down at the little spot of hers that he wasn’t supposed to know about like she usually did. They hadn’t used this room since the days they would stay up all night dancing when the mood would strike them. It seemed she could still have a good time, just not with him anymore. He couldn’t help but think that she was throwing that right in his face.

Shaking his head in disgust, he tossed the bottles in the trash with such force that several of them shattered on impact. He removed the needle from the record and put it away, making it a point to slam the cabinet door as loud as possible. Persephone didn’t even stir at the noise. He stood in front of the chair and looked down at her, the Queen of the Underworld in all her wasted glory. “Persephone?” He tapped the chair with his foot, trying to wake her but the only response was for her head to loll to the side. She didn’t look to be waking up any time soon. He had half a mind to just leave her there. Let her wake up stiff and sore in the morning after sleeping in that position all night. Would serve her right.

He knelt down to grab the flask from her hand and noticed a loose strand of curls that had fallen out of place. Without thinking, he reached up to brush it back. He was so close to her and as he moved the strand he couldn’t help but marvel at how peaceful and relaxed her face looked. He hadn’t seen her like that in a long time. Of course, he had tried not to notice. It was better to avoid the scowl and glare she always seemed to cast in his direction. He didn’t want to catch sight of that 1,000-yard stare she’d do sometimes when she was really out of it. But now, in her sleep, she looked more like the woman he loved. The woman who used to love him. He brushed a thumb over her cheek and a faint smile appeared on her face.

He turned his head away, trying to block out the unwanted emotions that smile brought out. He couldn’t let her get to him. It was necessary for him to hold on to his anger and resentment. Those he knew what to do with. He wielded them as a weapon in their many arguments and as a shield to keep other, more dangerous feelings at bay…loneliness, grief, guilt. It hurt too much to dwell on those so he tried to push them aside. It was easier to be mad at her than to face the fact that she no longer loved him.

Despite how he tried to harden his heart, she still had a way of putting cracks in the wall he had built around it. He took another look at her and all those feelings he tried to keep hidden came out in full force. He was still completely and desperately in love with her. There was no use in trying to deny it. He missed her and not just when she was up above for half the year. He missed her when they were in the same room even, missed how they used to be. He grieved for their relationship which was now about as dead as everything else in their kingdom. They used to talk and laugh and just enjoy each other’s company. Now they could barely speak to one another without it turning into a fight. It was his fault, he knew that much, though he wasn’t exactly sure how. The guilt hit him whenever he looked into those glassy eyes of hers. Eyes that used to be so full of life and joy now dull and unfocused behind the haze of alcohol. She was like this because of him, because of this place.

He didn’t know how to handle these feelings. What was he supposed to do with all the love he had for her when she clearly didn’t want it anymore? He was glad she was passed out and couldn’t see him like this. She’d no doubt laugh in his face. The King of the Underworld reduced to a pathetic, lovesick, old fool.

With a resigned sigh, he gently lifted her from the chair. “Okay, lover. Let’s get you to bed.”

For a moment the dead weight of her hung limply as her head and arm flung away from him. He pulled her closer, and she stirred against him as he headed towards the bedroom. Instinctively, her head rolled onto his shoulder as her arms reached for him. He stopped walking as his heart pounded in his chest at the contact, a reminder of just how far apart they had drifted if the slightest of touches from her could send him reeling.

Gathering his composure, he slowly made his way to the bedroom, careful not to disturb her. If he was being honest, he’d have to admit that his steady pace was to prolong having her in his arms again. It felt so right and natural just to hold her like that. It was hard for him to reconcile how they had gotten to such a cold, dark place in their marriage.

He entered the bedroom and found the bed unmade, making it easier to place her in it. As he carefully set her down he was hit with a long distant memory of a little disagreement they aways had over this bed. He had always insisted on making it every morning while she didn’t see the need.

“There’s no point in making it if we’re just gonna mess it up again,” she told him once, with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Her smile grew as she tossed a pillow at him, hitting him square in the face, before flinging herself onto the newly made bed.

“Come on, Seph,” he had pleaded as he moved to place the pillow back where it belonged.

“Come on, Hades,” she mocked as she lay in the middle of the bed, running her hand over the smooth blanket he had just laid out.

As she crooked a finger at him, he knew he had just lost the argument. Tossing the pillow to the side, he was more than happy to concede to her victory as he joined her.

“Told ya,” she had said to him as they lay in each other’s arms.

She laughed at him later as he made the bed for a second time that morning. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe I make the bed, because I know you’ll try and argue with me over it. I like the way you convince me.”

“Hmm, clever man.”

He reached to pull her towards him, but she laughed as she playfully swatted his hands away.

“Keep it up and you’ll end up having to make this bed a third time.”

He tried to shake the memory of happier times from his mind as he pulled the covers over her. That had been a long time ago and a lot had changed since then. Thinking about the good times they had shared only reminded him of what he had lost. He turned to go when a faint noise stopped him.

“Stay.”

Hades froze as he looked back to see Persephone with her eyes barely open. It was a quiet whisper and for a moment he thought he’d imagined it until he felt her small hand grab his wrist.

“Just hold me like you used to,” Persephone pleaded before her eyes closed and her hand fell from his wrist and over the side of the bed. Her words had been raspy and slurred.

He felt the familiar pull to do exactly as she requested. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into that bed and pull her close to him. It would feel so nice to have his arms wrapped around her again. He could hold her and pretend, just for one night, that she didn’t utterly despise him. But, much like the dreaded springtime, morning always came, such that it was in Hadestown, and he’d be faced with harsh reality once more.

He knew that when she awoke sober, sober enough anyway, she’d be mad as hell to find him there. And she’d be right to be upset. He knew better than to give in to her drunken ramblings, as that was all they were. She didn’t mean it. This had not been the request of an awake and coherent woman. It was the alcohol talking. The alcohol she had to consume more and more of just to tolerate his presence these days. He had driven her to this somehow and he wasn’t going to just disregard that like everything was fine, no matter how much he wanted to.

“I can’t stay. I have work to do.” It was a lame excuse that he uttered even though she wasn’t likely to be conscious enough to hear it, much less understand.

Before he left, he grabbed a glass of water and a bottle from the medicine cabinet and put them on the nightstand beside her. He couldn’t resist placing a kiss on her forehead as she slept. Then Hades turned and walked out the door, making his way towards the cold, lonely bed that awaited him, his heavy heart weighing him down with each step he took away from her.

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda started a bit from Persephone's POV the next morning of what she sorta remembers. We'll see if I can make something out of it.


End file.
